


One Night (And One More Time)

by fletchfeathers



Series: The Kids Are All Fucked Up (High School/College AU) [5]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: College AU, Eventual Smut, House Party, Multi, Spin the Bottle, breb writes the most self-indulgent fic of all time, kisses for days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fletchfeathers/pseuds/fletchfeathers
Summary: It starts with a house party, the way these things often do.Icarus - because of course it was Icarus - has started a game of Spin the Bottle, having apparently decided that everyone has had just enough alcohol to shed some inhibitions, but are still in that pleasantly fuzzy stage of intoxication.
Relationships: Icarus Swiftsilver/Windsor Lyg’Dagnir, Jasmine Labelle/Inarri Val’Sorren (mentioned), Sera Coppergrass/Liz Acidbreath (mentioned), Thibaut Stormchaser/Kol Rhuivir (mentioned), Windsor Lyg’Dagnir/Jay’lynn Senta’ae
Series: The Kids Are All Fucked Up (High School/College AU) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1241669
Kudos: 2





	One Night (And One More Time)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ImproperDancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImproperDancer/gifts).



> in which brendon writes the most self-indulgent fic he’s ever written and feels NO SHAME

It starts with a house party, the way these things often do.

Icarus - because of course it was Icarus - has started a game of Spin the Bottle, having apparently decided that everyone has had just enough alcohol to shed some inhibitions, but are still in that pleasantly fuzzy stage of intoxication. 

Windsor initially has no intention of joining in, is the thing. He’s never seen the point of these games, and quite aside from that, Sera (who Windsor is convinced has to be at least part Goblin under that Gnomish exterior) is the first to come and sit in the circle. She’s being about as subtle as a brick to the face about who she is hoping to kiss, but Gods, does he ever not want to risk  _ that  _ happening.

But Jay’lynn turns to Windsor as everyone starts to gather and says, “We should play!” 

And there’s a bright spark of mischief in her eyes as she grins up at him, and, well, how is he supposed to say no to that? 

So he ends up playing Spin the Bottle, sitting in the circle opposite Liz, the colossal black Dragonborn that Sera has her heart so helplessly set on, and hopes no-one can see the restless glances he keeps shooting at Jay’lynn. She’s laughing as she sips from her bottle of fruit cider, and Windsor doesn’t know how much of it is the wine he’s been drinking but he’s so  _ dizzy  _ for her, so  _ utterly stupid,  _ he’s not sure how no-one else can sense the very air around him vibrating.

Once all the participants are gathered - everyone but Icarus, it seems, with someone they’re hoping to kiss - Icarus produces an empty glass bottle from seemingly nowhere, placing it in the centre of the circle.

“We all know how this works, right?” they say, and a hush falls over the room as everyone’s attention turns to the Tiefling. “We go clockwise. On your turn, spin the bottle - as the name implies. Whoever it points to, you kiss on the mouth - none of this cheek-kissing crap, none of us are here for that - for as little or as long as you please. Simple enough.”

Their violet eyes flick around the circle, and Windsor - Windsor isn’t  _ certain,  _ but it feels like maybe they linger a little longer on him. He figures, though, that Icarus probably has that effect on everyone, if the way the energy in the room has just noticeably shifted is any indication. 

“Let’s keep it civil, though,” Icarus reminds everyone. “We’re all friends here. Sera, no biting.”

Sera pouts, and the others laugh, but thankfully she doesn’t seem too fazed. 

“Alright,” Icarus says once the laughter dies off, their smile wicked as they dim the lights. It would be ridiculous, Windsor thinks, if it had been anyone but Icarus. “If everyone is ready, let’s begin.”

Icarus leans in, and the room holds its collective breath as they pause, casting another brief glance around - Icarus has never been one to shy away from unnecessary dramatics, after all - before spinning the bottle.

As it slows, there’s a heart-stopping moment where it passes Jay’lynn, and Windsor feels his heart skip for a second as it spins lazily past her and lands, instead, on Jasmine.

Jasmine Labelle is a regular at Icarus’ parties, and one of the most effortlessly likeable people Windsor knows - he doesn’t know that he’s ever heard a bad word said about her. She and Icarus had been fast friends from the moment they’d met, and while it was Icarus hosting this particular soiree, Windsor would put money on most of the attendees coming on Jasmine’s invitation.

Jasmine grins as the bottle stops, shaking her head fondly at Icarus, and gets to her feet. 

“Alright then, Swiftsilver,” she says in her lilting French accent, holding out her arms to the Tiefling. “You’re supposed to be good at this.”

Icarus smirks, and swans - literally,  _ swans  _ across the circle to sweep Jasmine into their arms. They dip her low, and Jasmine’s delighted laughter rings across the room before Icarus brushes a lock of her wavy brown hair from her face; and even from where he’s sitting, Windsor sees Jasmine’s eyes go dark, her gaze instinctively flicking to Icarus’ mouth - 

And Icarus gives her the sweetest, most chaste kiss they can muster, beaming down at Jasmine as they wait for her to realise.

The tension breaks as laughter spills out of the circle, and Jasmine throws a playful punch at Icarus’ shoulder.

“You bastard,” she says, straightening up as Icarus lets her go and returning to her place in the circle. Icarus flashes her a sickeningly sweet smile and a wink in return, and nudges the bottle towards Thibaut, the blue Dragonborn.

Windsor doesn’t know Tibs that well, other than that he and Liz are somewhat unlikely friends, and that there wasn’t a straight girl on campus whose heart wasn’t broken when he finally came out as gay last year. Beside Tibs, though, is Jay’lynn, and his attention drifts to her quite of its own accord, the game quickly becoming background noise as he admires her from across the circle.

She’s just so  _ lovely,  _ is the thing. It’s hard to concentrate on anything but her when so little else compares.

Windsor only really snaps back to reality when he realises, suddenly and embarrassingly, that she’s looking right back at him, and feels the stupid blush rise into his cheeks as he tries to pretend he hadn’t just been staring  _ right at her.  _

He aims for nonchalant as he quickly averts his eyes, but gets the feeling he misses horribly as he barely catches the soft smile that spreads across her face. 

Still, he manages to return his focus to the game unfolding before him, maybe a little too invested in whether the web of unspoken crushes within their group of friends will finally untangle tonight, because of  _ course  _ that’s why Icarus started this game in the first place. They know everyone here entirely too well.

Tibs’ spin lands on Beepis, at Windsor’s right - the vastly preferable Gnome of the two here, in his opinion - who giggles as she looks up at Tibs. Tibs looks a little unnerved at the whole affair, his yellow-green eyes darting to Kol, the Drow sat at Beepis’ other side, but Kol doesn’t seem to really be paying attention either, currently listening to something Issy is whispering in his ear. 

Beepis gets to her feet, and Tibs takes a swig of his beer before he offers his snout to Beepis, letting her pepper it with sweet, gentle kisses.

If a Dragonborn could blush, Windsor thinks Tibs certainly would be blushing right now; but both he and Beepis are laughing, and Tibs pulls Beepis into a bear hug that she has no trouble returning before she goes to sit back down. Windsor wants to pretend he doesn’t find it all entirely adorable, but again, he’s already failing miserably. 

Still, he steals a glance at Kol before Beepis returns. Kol is suddenly paying  _ much  _ more attention, the tips of his ears now noticeably more pink than before, and his expression a little caught as he stares across at Tibs; and Tibs offers a shy smile back at the Drow, running a nervous hand through the crest of blue feathers at the back of his neck. 

Windsor’s hardly surprised. Kol and Tibs are the  _ most ridiculous.  _ They’re apparently the only two in the whole college who don’t seem to know - or maybe just don’t believe - that they have completely obvious crushes on each other, to the point where it’s honestly a little painful.

But before Windsor can keep following that train of thought, Thibaut passes the bottle to Jay’lynn, and his attention immediately snaps back to her.

Her fingers are light on the bottle and, like Icarus before her, she considers both it and the circle around her carefully before spinning it. Windsor doesn’t even realise he’s holding his breath until the bottle turns past him once, twice - and lands on the other Drow in the circle, Inarri. At the moment, she seems preoccupied with laughing at something Jasmine has just said rather than the fact that she’s about to get to  _ kiss Jay’lynn,  _ much to Windsor’s chagrin.

Jay’lynn clears her throat, that mischievous grin returning as she lightly taps Inarri on the shoulder. Inarri glances up with a soft “hm?” before glancing from Jay’lynn to the bottle. Windsor swears he can hear the cogs turning in Inarri’s head as she figures out what’s going on - and then she blushes fiercely, her cheeks almost as bright as her fiery hair.

Jay’lynn, though, seems perfectly at ease as she gently takes Inarri’s chin in one hand, and Windsor’s heart  _ races  _ as he watches them - well, watches Jay’lynn, mostly, completely enraptured in the thought of himself on the receiving end. 

Jay’lynn kisses Inarri slowly, softly, and Windsor sees how Inarri melts a little under the obviously very welcome attention of Jay’lynn’s mouth, fidgeting as she makes herself comfortable; and Windsor’s jaw goes just a little slack as Jay’lynn slides her hands into Inarri’s hair, and Inarri grasps a little frantically at the front of Jay’lynn’s shirt. 

They manage to keep it chaste - at least as chaste as it can be with how much both of them are quite obviously enjoying themselves - but Jay’lynn  _ definitely  _ takes her time, planting herself in Inarri’s lap and twisting a little of her hair lazily around her fingers, until Inarri seems to finally collect herself enough to grab Jay’lynn’s waist maybe a little too eagerly, pulling her in closer.

The moment is somewhat disturbed when Sera lets out a piercing wolf-whistle, making a ripple of laughter go around again, and when Jay’lynn finally pulls away Inarri is flushed and a little breathless, but beaming at Jay’lynn all the same.

As Jay’lynn stands, she looks Windsor in the eye and gives him the most deliciously evil grin Windsor’s ever seen from  _ anyone,  _ let alone from Jay’lynn - and then she fucking  _ winks  _ at him, and Windsor immediately feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

That mental image is going somewhere  _ very  _ private, and Windsor is pretty sure he’ll be revisiting it  _ plenty.  _

“I believe it’s my turn,” Jasmine says breezily, taking the bottle from Jay’lynn and shooting Icarus a look. “If it lands on you again, you’d better make an effort this time.” 

“Of course, darling,” Icarus purrs, sipping his blush-pink wine. “Anything for you.”

Jasmine rolls her eyes, but her expression is fond as she gives the bottle a spin - and the circle erupts with laughter when it lands on Talon. 

Talon is someone Windsor is always surprised to see at these parties. It’s more than likely he came either because Jasmine invited him, or because his friend Tris was invited and Talon ended up being dragged along. Talon isn’t exactly a social butterfly, all long dark hair and sharp silver eyes and a generous helping of gay yearning - but here he is, his long, pointed ears twitching nervously as he looks over at Jasmine, who just grins playfully at him.

“Oh, Talon, don’t look so disappointed,” she says, scooting towards him across the circle. “I promise I’ll make this quick.”

“You’d fuckin’ better,” Talon grumbles, looking as though he wants to  _ actually die  _ as Jasmine grabs his face in both of her hands and plants a big, noisy kiss on his lips. Talon scrunches up his nose as she pulls away, blushing fiercely as she leans back, still holding his face in her hands. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jasmine asks, tousling his hair and easily dodging Talon’s half-hearted swipe at her before he takes a long swig of his beer. It seems to settle him, and he pushes his white forelock out of his eyes, returning her smirk.

“I mean, hey,” he says, shrugging, “better you than Inarri.”

“Hey!” Inarri snaps, punching Talon’s arm as the circle laugh again, and this time Talon joins in as Inarri flips him off.

It takes Windsor a moment to realise that the bottle is now in front of him, and the circle’s attention has turned to him, curious and excited. 

He shifts a little uncomfortably under the weight off all of their eyes before he manages to collect himself, remembering  _ just who he is.  _ Windsor Lyg’Dagnir, heir to his mother’s position on the Council of Sunderheim, will  _ not  _ be  _ bested  _ by a  _ bottle. _

The spite and Dutch courage overcome the nerves, and he gives the bottle a confident spin, sitting up on his haunches as he watches it turn.

_ Not Sera,  _ he prays to any God that might be listening, just in case.  _ Not Sera. Anyone but Sera. _

There is a  _ literally  _ heart-stopping moment moment when he thinks it might be Sera, the bottle starting to slow as it approaches her; but it  _ just  _ passes, drawing a sigh of relief from both of them, before it stops.

Windsor, still recovering from the relief of not having to put his mouth anywhere near Sera’s, takes a moment to remember he does still have to kiss someone. When he looks up to who the bottle is pointing to, he’s a little startled to see that it’s Icarus, their violet eyes glowing in the almost-darkness as they fix on him.

Windsor swallows, his mouth suddenly a little too dry, and a strange hush falls over the room.

Icarus takes a long, deliberate sip from their glass of wine before they stand, flashing an easy smile at Windsor and cocking their head to the side, just a little, just enough for Windsor to see.

“Well?” Icarus asks, and there’s something in their voice that is maybe a little too soft, a little too gentle, and it catches Windsor off guard because - and Windsor, in all his longing for Jay’lynn, had almost forgotten it himself - before Jay’lynn, there was Icarus.

Windsor has always had a notorious weakness for pretty things, and Icarus - well. Open a dictionary to the definition for pretty and there is Icarus, with their sleek, wine-red hair and smooth dark skin, and those  _ eyes,  _ Gods above. More than that, though, Icarus has always carried their beauty well, acutely aware of it and effortlessly confident with it.

And Windsor, like any person with  _ sense,  _ has had a crush on Icarus since the moment he first clapped eyes on them. 

Even now, even as much as he adores Jay’lynn, he can’t tear his eyes from the Tiefling; and the way Icarus is looking at him, as though he’s the only thing in the room they can see - 

The part of Windsor’s brain that has known Icarus for years knows that Icarus, if they wanted, could make just about anyone feel that way. 

But that part of his brain is currently foggy with alcohol, and by the part that makes his face grow warm in the face of it. 

“Well, yourself,” Windsor responds, and Icarus’ smile widens, sharp teeth flashing in the light. Their eyes rake greedily over Windsor in a disgustingly unsubtle way, until Windsor is almost  _ annoyed  _ at how they’re dragging this out.

“For the love of the  _ Gods,  _ Icarus,” Windsor mutters, and he crosses the circle in two quick strides to pull Icarus into a kiss.

Icarus makes a startled sound against Windsor, and Windsor feels a brief surge of pride at the idea that he managed to catch them by surprise. But then Icarus’ hands settle lightly at Windsor’s waist, and their lips, surprisingly soft and sweet with wine, part slightly under Windsor’s - and Windsor, immediately and embarrassingly, goes a little weak in the knees.

Icarus hums softly, contentedly, and slides their hands around to the small of Windsor’s back, pulling the Elf in closer. Windsor reaches up to brush their cheek with his fingertips, his other hand winding into their long hair, drawing another pleased sound from them. 

Windsor has spent his fair share of time imagining kissing Icarus, has a hard time imagining that anyone hasn’t. He doesn’t know what he expected from the real thing, but he’s surprised at how pliant and willing Icarus is, how warm and soft they are against him, and how they seem to know instinctively just the right way to kiss Windsor to make him feel utterly weightless, like he could do this for the rest of his life. 

He almost can’t help but indulge the dark surge of possessiveness that rises in him, tightening his grip in Icarus’ hair and angling their head to deepen the kiss. A soft, barely audible moan - one that Windsor wants to believe was meant just for his ears - spills from Icarus’ mouth, and it’s a gorgeous sound, one that goes immediately to Windsor’s -

Oh,  _ fuck.  _

In a split second of clarity, Windsor breaks away from Icarus, realising belatedly that his breathing is ragged. 

Icarus leans forward a little, trying to chase the kiss before they manage to stop themselves; and when their eyes finally blink open, their usually slit pupils are blown wide and dark, only the barest glowing ring of violet still visible around them, and there’s something almost  _ desperate  _ in them that makes Windsor’s breath catch in his throat. 

Windsor swallows again, still a little caught in the face of Icarus’ wanting - but Icarus seems to collect themselves before Windsor can do anything more. They draw themselves back up to their full height with a satisfied smile, their pupils almost immediately returning to their usual cat-like slits as they go to sit back down.

“Who’s next?” they ask. “Liz, dearest, I believe it’s you.”

The sound in the room seems to return to Windsor all at once as he, too, returns to where he was sitting, surrounded by excited murmuring and whispers that he can't quite parse into words.

He takes a long drink from his own wine glass, still a little dazed, willing some composure to return to him. But when his gaze drifts back over to Jay'lynn's spot in the circle, a bolt of icy panic goes through him when he realises she's gone, a half-empty bottle of cider left in her wake.

Maybe she's just gone to the bathroom, he thinks – he hopes. Maybe she'll be back. 

He pretends not to see how Icarus' eyes keep sliding back to him, how their hair is still a little messy and their lovely mouth is still curved in that same smile. He especially doesn't look when Icarus' pointed tongue darts out to wet their lips. 

And, though it's hard when alcohol is clouding things, he wills himself to stop thinking about kissing them again - about kissing them a hundred times over, just to see what other sounds Icarus makes from that  _ particular _ kind of attention.

He's so caught up in his racing thoughts that he barely even notices that Liz, rather than spinning the bottle, simply takes it and points it at Sera before glaring around the circle as if daring anyone to argue, and Sera laughs and scrambles towards her to get her share of kisses.

_ Water _ , his wine-fogged brain supplies helpfully, and as the bottle moves on to Inarri he gets to his feet, swaying ever so slightly, and darts into the kitchen, far too aware of Icarus' gaze on his back.

He takes a glass from the cupboard and fills it from the tap, leaning against the counter as he takes a long drink. The water is cold and refreshing, and while it doesn't do much to help the haze of alcohol, it helps that he's not currently trying to avoid Icarus' rapt attention. 

He – he needs to find Jay'lynn, and make sure she's okay. And he needs to not be playing Spin the Bottle anymore, because all this is way more than he bargained for. And he probably needs to not drink any more wine, although that seems almost hilariously unlikely.

Gods. It's taken, what, a whole ten minutes for his night to be turned completely on its head, and he’s not even sure he knows how the hell it happened. 

He startles when he feels something – someone – touch their shoulder, and turns to see Icarus standing before him. He wants to be annoyed until he sees the genuine concern scrawled across their features - there's something uncharacteristically vulnerable about them in this moment, and something in Windsor's chest aches, just briefly. 

“Don't you have a game to play?” Windsor asks him, taking another sip from his glass of water, and Icarus shifts their weight from foot to foot, tucking a stray strand of hair behind one of their pointed ears.

“I’m sorry, Windsor,” they say quietly. 

And Windsor - Windsor just blinks in surprise.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I'm sorry. If it was too much back there, I – I'm sorry. The last thing I wanted was to make you uncomfortable.”

Windsor sighs, massaging his forehead with his fingertips, and places the glass back on the counter, gently taking Icarus’ hands in his own. 

“It's not … it's not  _ you _ , exactly,” Windsor says. Icarus tilts their head slightly, furrowing their brows. 

“Then … what?” Icarus asks, before they follow Windsor's gaze to the still-empty space in the circle. 

Their expression softens in apology as they turn back to Windsor, and Windsor, even though he can only see the tips of Icarus' pointed ears through their hair, sees them drooping. 

“I see,” Icarus says quietly, tugging their hands free of Windsor’s. 

“It's not that I -”

“It's alright,” Icarus interrupts, their voice carefully level and soft. “I should have remembered.”

Windsor frowns, reaching out to brush a little of Icarus' hair from their lovely face. For all their attempts to hide it, Windsor has known Icarus long enough to know when something is off. 

But before he can ask, Icarus is reluctantly drawing away from Windsor and turning back towards the living room. 

“Wait – _ wait _ ,” Windsor says, taking Icarus' arm and turning them back to face him. Icarus doesn't resist, gazing at him with one sharp eyebrow arched expectantly.

“It’s – okay, it is a little that,” Windsor admits, “but it isn't you.”

Icarus ducks their head, huffing a laugh through their nose. 

“I know,” they murmur. 

Windsor nods, and Icarus stands aside to let him pass. Before he goes, though, Windsor presses a gentle kiss to Icarus' forehead. 

“You did nothing wrong,” Windsor tells them again, tilting Icarus' chin up to meet their gaze.

Icarus smiles, but it doesn't reach their eyes, and they don’t hold Windsor’s gaze for long.

“Jay’lynn is a lucky girl,” they say, almost to themselves.

Windsor hesitates, just briefly, but steels his resolve and heads through the living room to Icarus' bedroom, wondering if he might find Jay'lynn there.

Sure enough, the double doors out onto Icarus' small balcony are open, and Windsor sees Jay'lynn leaning on the railing, looking out over the city lights below.

Relief floods through Windsor – he had been worried, for a moment, that she might have left the party altogether – before he clears his throat, tapping lightly on one of the open doors.

Jay'lynn startles at the sound, but she relaxes when she notices Windsor, offering him a faint smile.

"Good evening," Windsor says. "Mind if I join you?"

"Sure," Jay'lynn says, shuffling over to make some room for Windsor to come and stand beside her.

The city below them sprawls almost far as they both can see, a sea of amber light that washes all the way up to the base of the mountains to the north. The night air is cool against Windsor's skin, the cacophony of people below a faint white noise from this high up.

Icarus is practically haemorrhaging money to afford this place, Windsor knows, but it's worth it. 

And yet. None of it compares to when he looks back to Jay'lynn, faintly lit by the honey-gold glow from beneath, the breeze blowing her hair loosely around her shoulders. 

_ Gods _ . 

"Jay'lynn," he says, and she turns to face him, all freckled cheeks and bright, lovely eyes; and Windsor knows, right now, that this might be his new favourite view. 

"Yeah?" she asks. 

Windsor takes her hands in his, his heart throwing itself desperately at his ribs as if to try and tell her itself the words trapped in his throat.

But he takes a breath, steadies himself, and says, "I need to tell you something."

Jay'lynn raises her eyebrows, and as Windsor opens his mouth she touches a finger to his lips, making him frown in confusion.

"I … think I know what you're going to say," she says carefully, "and I want you to know that, if I'm right, I … I feel the same." 

Windsor blinks in surprise, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find words again - but Jay'lynn beats him to it, taking his hands and threading their fingers together.

"But I saw how you kissed Icarus back there," she says, "and I think … I think, before anything happens with us, that's maybe something you should get out of your system." 

Windsor feels his face go red-hot, even as Jay'lynn's mouth curves in a gentle smile.

"Listen, no hard feelings. Like, I  _ super _ get it. But I don't wanna feel like I'm competing with that, you know? So – so if that's something you want then you chase you your bliss, and then maybe we can talk about … about us. Yeah?" 

Windsor just – nods? Gods. He's not even sure what just happened.

But Jay'lynn leans in and touches a kiss, feather-light, to the corner of Windsor's mouth, before she turns and heads back inside.

"I think I'm gonna head home," she says, smiling maybe a little too knowingly. "See you later, Windsor." 

And Windsor nods again, because – uh –  _ what _ . 

"What," he says, out loud, entirely to himself, as Jay'lynn closes the door behind her with a soft click.

"Wait,  _ what _ ," he says again, as his brain finally catches up to everything that's just happened, and also treats him one more time to the image of Icarus after Windsor had kissed them, all flushed and breathless and  _ wanting _ \- 

And Jay'lynn … had okayed that? He thinks? He's pretty sure? He's – he's pretty sure that's good, by her. 

Windsor lets himself fall back against the balcony's railing, carding a hand through his white-blonde hair, and lets out a bark of slightly hysterical laughter.

What the  _ whole fuck _ is tonight. 

It takes Windsor a few minutes to collect himself, staring down at the lights below as if they'll give him any kind of clarity on this situation, and he is almost entirely lost in thought when a touch on his back startles him out of his head.

And there, again, is Icarus, their features once again creased with concern. 

"I saw Jay'lynn leaving," they say. "Is everything okay?" 

And Windsor – Windsor can't help but smile, settling his hands on Icarus' waist and pulling them in close.

"Everything is fine,  _ nodel'ivae _ ," Windsor murmurs, the Elvish pet name rolling easily off his tongue. "We … well, we talked it over." 

"Oh?" Icarus asks, allowing themselves to be drawn in towards Windsor. "Can I ask?"

"Later," Windsor says, tucking some of Icarus' loose hair behind one ear. "For now, though, you should kiss me again." 

Icarus blinks, but their face splits into a wide smile, and they lean in to kiss Windsor.

Windsor purrs against Icarus' mouth, wrapping his arms more firmly around them, and lets himself sink into just how good it feels to have them here against him, all to himself.

Kissing them is different this time, Windsor realises, with time and no-one watching. It's easier, calmer, not as rushed - but just as addicting, with Icarus' sweet, soft sounds filling the air between their kisses and their warm, delicate hands gently cupping Windsor's face. 

"Gods, Windsor," Icarus murmurs, pulling away briefly to catch their breath. "You've been holding out on me." 

Windsor laughs, nudging his nose against Icarus' and breathing them in, his hands settling at the small of Icarus' back. Icarus returns the gesture, before Windsor ducks his head to trace his lips along Icarus' jaw, pulling him in closer still as Icarus gasps, their head tipping back to allow Windsor better access. 

The floral scent of Icarus' perfume drifts into Windsor's nose as he continues down the slope of Icarus' neck and down towards one of their exposed shoulders, and he grins as he feels Icarus' hand tangle in his hair, holding him in place. 

“Yes?” Windsor asks, and Icarus nods encouragingly. 

Icarus' skin is warm and silky under Windsor's mouth, and Windsor, for a moment, considers making his mark on the so-far unblemished curve of his neck – to leave something for everyone to know who was here, who Icarus belonged to, even if just for one night. 

Windsor hums thoughtfully, allowing the barest scrape of his teeth across Icarus' collarbone, and Icarus whines quietly, tightening their grip in his hair. That's enough to embolden Windsor, and he kisses back up Icarus' neck and sinks his teeth in just below their jaw, sucking in a bruise where he knows everyone will see it. 

Icarus gasps sharply but doesn’t resist, their eyes darkening as Windsor drags his lips back up to touch one, two, three gentle kisses to Icarus' mouth.

“Bastard,” they say, but there’s no malice to it. “Everyone’s going to see that.” 

“I should hope so,” Windsor says, making no secret of admiring his handiwork. The bruise blossoms dark against Icarus’ skin, and Windsor wonders if the rest of him bruises so easily, so beautifully. 

"We should go inside," Icarus murmurs, gesturing their head towards the bedroom. Windsor nods, letting Icarus take his wrists and pull him towards their double bed. 

If his brain wasn't still a little fuzzy from wine, Windsor would probably be shitting himself right about now. Thank the Gods, then, for alcohol, because Windsor is only just realising that this is  _ happening _ . This is  _ real _ . Icarus, perching on the edge of the bed and gazing up at him with those luminous eyes, is not some bizarre dream he's having.

He leans down to kiss Icarus again, and Windsor can feel how their mouth curves in a smile, the feeling sending a flurry of butterflies through his stomach. Icarus reaches up to wrap their arms around Windsor's neck, tugging him down until Windsor is kneeling over them, Icarus lying flat on their back. 

When Windsor pulls away, his breath hitches a little at the sight of Icarus beneath him, tousled and breathless, their eyes dark and intense as they gaze up at Windsor with an expression Windsor can’t quite place. 

Icarus reaches up to touch Windsor's cheek, tilting their head ever so slightly.

"Is this what you want?" Icarus murmurs, rubbing his thumb along the arch of Windsor's cheekbone.

"Depends what 'this' is," Windsor replies, and Icarus grins, propping themselves up on their free elbow.

"I think you know," Icarus says, dragging their hand down Windsor's neck towards the collar of his shirt, and Windsor feels goosebumps prickling in the wake of Icarus' touch.

"I want you to be honest, though," Icarus says, suddenly sincere. "If you want to stop, we can." 

Windsor has to bite back laughter at that, leaning down to kiss Icarus again just to remind himself how  _ very sure _ he is that he wants this, the possessive part of him positively glowing at the idea of Icarus Swiftsilver being  _ his,  _ all his.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Windsor says, and Icarus' returning smile is almost blindingly bright.

"Good," Icarus says, as they start making quick work of the buttons of Windsor’s shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, running their hands down Windsor's bare back. Windsor shivers at the sensation, his skin tingling at Icarus’ touch, before Icarus goes to take off their own shirt.

But Windsor touches their hand, making them glance up curiously. 

"I want to," Windsor says, and Icarus happily obliges him, lifting their arms over their head as Windsor smooths his hands slowly up Icarus' sides, pushing their shirt up over their head. Their dark skin is warm, almost hot to the touch, and as Windsor tosses their shirt aside Icarus shuffles up to sit in Windsor’s lap. 

“Have you done this before?” Icarus asks, and while there’s no teasing or unkindness to their voice, Windsor still feels a twinge of embarrassment. 

It's... not that he  _ hasn't _ . Windsor is, after all, popular and pretty. It follows that he would have some idea of what he's doing in the bedroom.

Just. This is Icarus, who is renowned for being very good at this. Windsor would be lying if he said it wasn't kind of a lot of pressure.

"It's okay if not," Icarus says, touching Windsor's cheek. "Just follow my lead."

Windsor nods –  _ as if I wasn't already _ , he thinks – and sighs contentedly as Icarus leans in to kiss him again, soft and slow, and keeps kissing him until the nerves melt out of him. 

"There," Icarus whispers, "relax."

Windsor shivers a little at the words, at Icarus' breath at his ear – before he is, embarrassingly, startled as Icarus rolls their hips down against his.

" _ Icarus _ ," he gasps, hands scrabbling for purchase at Icarus' bare back, and Icarus' grin is – for lack of a better word – devilish as he meets Windsor's gaze.

“Yes?” Icarus asks as they roll their hips down again, but this time Windsor knows it's coming. He reaches round to grab Icarus' ass in both hands, either side of their lustrous tail, and Icarus nuzzles into Windsor's neck as they grind against him, sharp teeth grazing Windsor's pulse point, and Windsor - 

_ Fuck _ , Windsor wants to be inside them. 

The mental image alone almost sends him dizzy with how much he wants, rocking his own hips up to meet Icarus', and a dark surge of satisfaction floods through him when he feels as much as he hears Icarus' soft moan against his neck, before he goes for the waistband of Icarus' tight jeans. 

"Hold on," Icarus says, swinging their legs around and sitting at the edge of the bed to shimmy the jeans off their long, slender legs, deftly manoeuvring them around their tail. Windsor watches, raking his eyes over Icarus' back, the hints of muscle and sharp angles of their shoulder blades, before they shuffle back towards Windsor.

And Windsor is caught by how uncharacteristically small they look right now, how vulnerable, as they glance up at him from beneath their long eyelashes, a small, shy smile on their lips that makes Windsor's stomach unexpectedly somersault.

"You're beautiful," Windsor murmurs, cupping Icarus' cheek in his hand. "Gods above, Icarus. You're so gorgeous." 

Icarus ducks their head, their smile widening, and even in the low light Windsor can see the blush creeping into their cheeks. 

"So are you," they say, touching a feather-light kiss to the corner of Windsor's mouth. “Windsor, I can’t believe it’s taken us this  _ long. _ ” 

And Windsor - well, fuck, Windsor just  _ melts,  _ thinks he might combust right here on the spot, because Icarus Swiftsilver has wanted this too, and that’s almost too much for him to think about right now. 

"I, um," Windsor says, clearing his throat, as he gathers Icarus back into his lap, “this is – this is new for me. So I'm sorry if I -"

"Don't be," Icarus replies. "Don't be sorry for anything. I want you, whatever that entails." 

And that, once again, goes  _ immediately _ to Windsor's dick, which is currently very unhappy about still being trapped in his pants. But Icarus seems to read his mind, sitting up on his knees to undo Windsor's jeans and letting Windsor push them off, tossing them aside. 

Icarus' eyes wander thoughtfully over Windsor for what seems like an eternity, with how exposed Windsor feels – is – right now; but then they smile, gently taking Windsor's shoulders and pushing him down into the nest of pillows at the head of the bed.

Windsor's heart literally feels like it's about to explode out of him, and he swallows, realising he's been holding his breath, as Icarus begins kissing slowly down his chest, their hands settling at his hips.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," Icarus purrs, kissing gradually lower and nuzzling the soft skin below Windsor's navel. 

"Do wh -" Windsor begins to ask, but before he can even fully form the word, Icarus licks a broad stripe up the underside of his dick. 

Windsor just manages to bite back an actual, honest-to-Gods cry at that, managing instead to contain it to a sharp gasp, and Icarus grins up at him, completely wicked, before taking Windsor’s dick into his mouth.

Windsor has had blowjobs before. That in itself isn't new. But Icarus' mouth is pillow-soft and so warm, and they know exactly what to do with their tongue to make Windsor feel like every nerve in his body is lighting up at once. 

He pushes Icarus' hair from their face, watching them suck him off, and – fuck,  _ fuck _ , they're so  _ pretty _ . He didn't even know people could be pretty with a cock in their mouth, and yet. 

Icarus hums softly around Windsor at his touch, the sound and feeling making a low moan spill from Windsor as he tightens his grip in their hair. Icarus pulls up briefly to swirl their tongue around the head of Windsor's dick, and even that is almost too much – but then they take all of him down their throat, nails digging lightly into his hips, and he – he can't – holy fuck, he doesn't want to be done yet - 

"Icarus," he manages to gasp, gently tugging their hair to pull their head up. "Icarus – wait."

And Icarus obediently pauses, lifting their head to look at Windsor, brows furrowed in concern.

"Everything okay?" they ask, and Windsor almost laughs, can't believe anything about that could be  _ not okay _ . 

"Yeah – yeah," Windsor says. "Of course. I just – I want …"

He trails off, suddenly feeling self-conscious about what it is he does want, and Icarus smiles knowingly. 

"Tell me," Icarus says, shuffling back up the bed to straddle Windsor's lap, letting Windsor's dick sit flush against the curve of their ass. "What do you want, Windsor?"

They punctuate the question with another roll of their hips, and Windsor's inhibitions finally lose out to how badly he wants Icarus, all of Icarus, all to himself.

He buries his face in Icarus' neck, kissing the arch of his shoulder, and growls, "I want to fuck you, Icarus Swiftsilver." 

He hears how Icarus inhales sharply at that, feels their hips stutter as they roll down this time, and feels that same rush of satisfaction as he goes to pop the cap on the bottle Icarus gave him earlier.

"Use your fingers first," Icarus says. "It'll make it easier."

Windsor nods, squeezing some lube onto his first two fingers and grimacing at how cold it is, making Icarus giggle a little breathlessly. He takes Icarus' tail with one hand and pulls it aside, reaching around to brush his fingertips against Icarus' asshole. 

He has to take a moment, draw in a deep breath to steady the nerves that come racing back, and he presses his first finger inside Icarus, drawing a shuddering breath from the Tiefling. 

"Good?" Windsor asks, and Icarus nods a little frantically, rocking back against him. 

"Keep going," they gasp, and Windsor swallows, a little breathless in the face of how Icarus is looking at him, the want - no, the  _ need  _ \- in their eyes. "Please."

Windsor pushes in a little deeper, his dick aching at the feeling of how tight Icarus is, and keeps his other hand firmly gripped at the base of their tail. He feels a shiver ripple through the Tiefling, hears their quiet gasp in his ear as their head sinks onto Windsor's shoulder, their breath almost blisteringly hot against his skin.

It's … Gods. It's almost too much. 

"Icarus," Windsor murmurs, gently nudging his nose under one of Icarus' pointed ears. "Icarus." 

Icarus looks up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes impossibly dark, and Windsor has to take a steadying breath.

"I need," Windsor says, even though he doesn't really know where that sentence is going next. "I need …"

"Tell me." Icarus' voice is soft as they reach to pull a stray blonde strand from Windsor's face, before they duck in to touch soft, barely-there kisses to Windsor's neck and up along his jaw towards his ear. "Tell me what you need from me." 

And Windsor – well, for all he wants to say he's a patient Elf, he doesn't think it's physically possible to still be patient right now. 

He takes Icarus’ hips in his hands, pressing his cock up against Icarus’ ass again, and he swears their eyes glow brighter in the darkness.

“Please,” Windsor says, a little strained; and Icarus considers him thoughtfully, humming quietly, before they position themself over Windsor’s cock.

“Like this?” Icarus asks, and Windsor can only nod, his grip tightening on Icarus’ hips. Icarus ducks down to give him one more lingering kiss, and sinks onto Windsor with a moan that lights up every nerve in his body.

“ _ Yes, _ ” Icarus breathes, and Windsor - Windsor is scared that this will end embarrassingly quickly, because this - he’s  _ dreamed  _ about this, about fucking this gorgeous Tiefling, and now it’s  _ happening,  _ and - and - 

Almost unconsciously, he bucks up into Icarus, drawing another gorgeous sound from them as their head falls back, exposing the perfect arc of their throat as their eyes flutter closed.

Windsor thrusts up again, pulling Icarus’ hips down to fuck them deeper, and Icarus gasps, rocking his hips down to match Windsor’s pace; and Windsor lets Icarus set the pace for the most part, more than content to just drink in the view.

Jay’lynn was right, he thinks absently; he absolutely needed to get this out of his system, because he doesn’t think he would ever have forgiven himself if he’d said no to this. 

Icarus punctuates the thought perfectly as some particularly deep thrusts have them chanting his name, reverent, breathless, and it’s never sounded better than it does now, pouring from Icarus’ mouth as though it’s the only word they know - 

And, yeah, this is going to be over  _ so fast _ .

“Icarus, I’m -” Windsor starts, but Icarus leans down to kiss the words right out of his mouth, grabbing their cock to jerk themselves off as Windsor fucks them, and that’s all it takes. 

He scrabbles for Icarus’ hips again, pulls them down onto him as he comes harder than he thinks he ever has in his life, shaking with the intensity of it; and Icarus is not far behind him, moaning breathlessly as they come, shuddering, over Windsor’s stomach, before collapsing forward, panting heavily against Windsor’s neck. 

It takes a moment for Windsor to come back to his senses - understandably, he thinks - and when he does, it’s to Icarus nuzzling gently into his neck with a contented sigh.

“Wow,” Windsor says, because that’s about all his brain can manage at the moment. Icarus laughs, sitting up to look at him, their expression impossibly fond.

“I cannot tell you how long I’ve wanted that,” they murmur, brushing a little of Windsor’s hair out of his face, and Windsor feels his face grow warm, something soft and bright blossoming in his chest.

“Yeah?” he says, eloquently, and Icarus nods, a soft smile creeping onto his face.

“Yeah,” they say. And then, with a playful tip of their head, “And the night is young. I have a  _ lot  _ to catch up on, Windsor Lyg’Dagnir.”

Windsor barks out a laugh, beaming up at Icarus.

“It certainly is,” he replies, “and so do I.”


End file.
